Remember Me
by KurumiSophia
Summary: AU, Willow is dead and Angel is in mourning when comfort comes in a most unexpected way.


Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not mine and never will be mine. It belongs purely to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. The inscription on the gravestone is a paraphrase from William Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

The dampness of the freshly turned earth seeped through the knees of Angel's dark dress slacks as he knelt at the newly made grave. The funeral had been earlier that evening when the last delicate fingers of light had desperately tried to hold back the encroaching night.

He wept tears of crimson as he thought of her, the way her eyes flashed when she was angry, and the way her smile lit up the whole room. He could go on but what would be the point? She was gone forever. His tears were little penance for her death. He'd been a fraction of a second too slow. A split-second's hesitation had cost him everything he'd ever wanted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Celtic cross. It burned his hand but he welcomed the pain at least it dulled the sharp ache in his heart. "It's thrice blessed," he whispered softly, "I had it done by a Catholic priest, a Jewish Rabbi, and a Wiccan Priestess." Angel gently placed the necklace around the slim headstone, carefully arranging it so that the cross hung directly under the dash between the dates.

The inscription in the pale, rose-colored granite spelled out what none of them wanted to believe, Willow Rosenburg, 1982-2002. _"__And__ when __she__ shall __die, __take __her __and__ cut __her __out __in __little __stars __and __she __will __make __the __face__ of __heaven __so __fine __that __all __the__ world __will __be__ in __love __with __night __and __pay __no __worship __to __the __garish __sun.__"_

He hadn't heard from Oz in days and that worried him. Xander had gone mad, insisting that she was just out of town visiting relatives and would be back soon. Cordelia was dealing in her own way, withdrawing into herself, becoming quiet and introspective. Giles and Buffy grieved the hardest of them all. The quiet British librarian silently wasted away with the loss of the one young person who understood him the most. The Slayer constantly trained and patrolled, trying to rid herself of her grief by taking it out on the vampires of Sunnydale. Angel made a mental note to check up on both of them, knowing that grief would make them both take crazy chances, especially Giles.

He knew that firsthand. After he, as Angelus, had killed Jenny Calendar, Giles had come after him wanting nothing more then to make him fit into an ashtray. Buffy had kept the Watcher from getting himself killed that night. Angel had to wonder what made him tell Buffy that Giles was about to burn to death if she didn't do something. Perhaps his soul returned just long enough to impart that bit of information that the demon part of him promptly used to its own ends. He didn't recall it offhand, but this was Sunnydale and anything could happen.

His thoughts soon wandered to other times and other places. He remembered the time when she'd gone off on both him and Giles, him for not taking Buffy out for a cup of coffee and Giles for pushing her too hard. He smiled at the memory; even now, he could still hear her tirade ringing in his ears.

"Why do you think she went to that party?" He'd had no answer. "Because you gave her the brush off!" Then she'd turned her formidable wrath on Giles. "And you never let her do anything …" Angel had pitied the British librarian. He hadn't a clue how to deal with Willow, of all people, telling him off. After she was done with Giles, she'd gone back to deal with him. "And you. I mean, you're going to live forever. You don't have time for a cup of coffee?"

Angel smiled at the memory, this one bittersweet. She'd had such fire in her. He loved Buffy but in Willow, he'd found a kindred spirit, someone who was willing to forgive past sins and move on. All he had to do was show her, but the opportunity never came and it never would. All chances of her ever knowing what he felt were dead and buried with her.

He tried to decide what to do. Perhaps he would stay here and wait for the sunrise and join her in death. Maybe he would follow Buffy's example and take out his grief and rage on demons and vampires.

As he contemplated what to do, a glowing figure appeared in front of the headstone. He looked up in surprise. If he had been able to breathe at that moment, he probably would have stopped. A single word escaped his lips, "Willow." Angel reached out a trembling hand to touch her cheek but he simply passed right through her. "Willow," he whispered once more, fresh tears streaming down his face.

The ethereal figure favored him with a gentle smile as she knelt at his side "Oh, Angel don't cry. I'm happy, completely at peace." As she spoke, her voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

"Willow, I-" She shook her head as if sensing his thoughts.

"Hush. It's okay. Don't you know that lost opportunities are never truly lost? They're only lost for this lifetime. Another chance will come along in another life. I'll be back and you can try again. I won't know you, it's the rules you know, but you can still try." Her face broke into a lopsided grin. For a moment he could almost believe that Willow was still alive and the attack and the funeral were nothing but a bad dream that would fade away if he could just wake up but once more reality intruded and the dream was lost.

Angel grasped at the last hope left to him. Willow would return in another life and another body. "How will I know you?" He was almost giddy at the thought of getting another chance, but at the same time frantic for answers. He so desperately wanted to show her how much of kindred spirits they really were. All he needed was a little time.

Another smile. "You'll know, trust me." She cupped his face in her hands. Angel stiffened in surprise, she was solid! His eyes shone with wonder at the feel of her hands on his face, something that he had never felt when she was alive. "Willow, you're," his voice failed him for a moment, his wonder was so great, "solid." He slowly reached up and touched her hands where they rested on his tear-streaked face, marveling at their softness even in her . . . altered state. Willow carefully brought both their hands down to clasp his hands in hers. Her eyes shone with love that Angel would handle a blessed objects in her memory. Willow dragged her thoughts back to the situation at hand when she heard Angel whisper her name, asking is she was all okay. She nodded, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

"Of course I am. It's just takes me a few moments to get that way. Solid, I mean." She smiled at him, her expression sobered as she saw the desperation in his eyes. "Angel, I want you to do something for me."

"Anything." He said it recklessly; ready for whatever task she would set before him.

"Remember me. Always." Angel was taken aback by this request.

What do you mean, 'remember me'?" He protested, "You said you would be back for another life."

"I don't know when I'll return. So in the meantime, all I ask is that you remember me."

"Oh." She smiled at his uncharacteristic response. It wasn't every day a girl got to burst the love of her life's bubble, especially when said girl was quite dead.

"Let's try this again, shall we? Remember me. Always." Willow placed a gentle kiss on his lips and faded from view. When she was gone, Angel realized that the air smelled of her. The perfume hung in the air, wrapping him in its sweet scent. He simply knelt there for a few moments, breathing it in. He slowly got up from the grave and dusted himself off. He gave a short laugh as he disappeared into the darkness, his words hanging on the still night air.

"Like I could ever forget."


End file.
